The Ceiling
by It'sMeMario1998
Summary: "My name is John Hamish Watson, and this is how I met one Mr. Sherlock Holmes." John narrates the story of his teen years onward and how he came to be in the company of Sherlock.Warnings: Domestic abuse, language and alcohol use. Teenlock. Johnlock. John/Molly friendship.
1. Chapter 1

The ceiling. That's all I could see. What I could hear was a whole different story.

_Bastard child. A mistake. Unwanted in this family. No one cares. Faggot. _

I supposed it was just kind of a day to day thing, being trodden on like a pile of shit. I guess I had grown used to it, kind of begun to believe that I deserved it too. Eventually, dad was eating away at me; slowly, but surely.

My bedroom was pretty basic back at home. A bed in one corner, a wardrobe in another and a desk with a laptop previously owned by my parents in front of a window overlooking the street below me; Glentworth Street, to be precise. That's where we lived.

For me, I guess this was a great place to live. Some say, like New York, if you can make it to London then the world is your oyster. There was a park to play footie in just around the corner and my mates didn't live too far away.

School was okay I suppose, the building was pretty posh really; Saint Bartholomew's, it was called, and it was a nice place to work; not that much of that went on. Well, nice as you can get in London without going private, and after spending the first twelve years of my life in the roughest part of Durham imaginable, I saw it as luxury to be honest.

First day and St. Bart's had been tough, yeah, first day at a new school always is, but the guys were cool there, they seemed to like me, and I guess I liked them too, but I just never felt completely comfortable there, like I didn't quite belong.

Greg was a good mate, Greg Lestrade. I'd met him in my first day there. One of the teachers had asked him to help me feel welcome and he did that I suppose. He helped me get where I am today anyway, and he knows things that only my mother, father, sister and I knew.

My sister, Harriet, open lesbian and likes to be referred to as Harry, although I still call her Harriet just to piss her off. But she's buggered off to university in Sheffield and left mum and me to deal with the monster living amongst us. Apparently she's off the drink to focus on her studies but I deem that highly unlikely to be honest. She had a girlfriend back then; she had many; and a serious one too, and I suppose in some ways, I'm glad that she got out when she did, but it made even worse for me really. It did her good though, university. I doubted I would go, after all, all dad wanted me to do was join the army; do one last thing to try and prove I was more than just a puff.

A banging on the door brought me back out of my thoughts.

"John! I know you're in there, you bitch! You agree don't you, with everything I've said, that's why you won't come out and fight like a man! Oh wait, sorry, fight like a _faggot, _my mistake-" someone interrupted him, I guess it was mum.

"James, stop this, he's only a boy-"

I heard a bang from outside the door. _Wow, he really is mad tonight, huh. Wonder how much beer he's had, _I thought, and anger began to flood my veins.

"Shut it Catherine! He's my son, and I'll treat him how I like! You hear that John, I'll treat you as I like!" I don't like to admit this, but a felt a tear roll down my cheek then; a big, fat, betraying tear, making me feel even more cowardly.

He went away then, and it stopped for a while.

I sat up on my old bed, staring at the opposite wall. Getting to my feet I heard a faint sobbing from the doorway; mum was crying again. I always regret not helping her like a son should, but my fear that he would get me if I so much as opened the door clouded my good judgment.

I sat down in the wooden chair at my desk and stared at the street lamp across the road; a constant emitter of light, it would have been nice to have one of those in my life. I lifted the lid of my laptop and logged in. The internet had been turned off, probably by dad to stop me watching 'gay porn', yeah because that's all I spend my life doing, drooling over male porn stars who are paid to have sex on camera; not that I have anything against them, just not quite my cup of tea that's all.

I shut the lid again, and sighed. I dragged myself back to my bad, got under to covers and attempted to forget, and ignoring the sounds of my mothers' sobs, I fell asleep into nightmares.

* * *

It's ironic isn't it really, how when you're at school, summer can't come quick enough, but when you're stuck at home all day with nothing to do than listen to someone scream abuse at you and ban you from the internet, your one contact with the outside world, suddenly you wished you were being grilled on the periodic table by some middle-aged teacher who settled for this job when their career evaporated into nothing in the early 80's and teaching was their only way out of the disease diagnosed as unemployment.

I counted down the number of days until term began again my school planner we got given at the start of every year; pretty common place things really, still got all of mine in a box under my bed somewhere. I'm not entirely sure how I made it through all those endless days of torment and waiting for dad to go out so I could go to the park or maybe get on the internet to contact Greg.

They were the only good days experienced in my teenage summers.

Dad had been called into the office early and mum said he wouldn't be back till late; even now I can see the happiness in her eyes as she said those words. I messaged Greg and pumped up my good old friend of a football and headed to Regent's Park, just round the corner. Most teenagers long to feel a comfy chair under their arses and a computer of some kind on their laps, but when you're cooped away like I was, fresh air don't half lighten you're heart.

I met Greg by the fountain, we exchanged a hug; manly of course, no one at school knew about my disinterest in boobs; and made our way to a clear bit of grass, where we proceeded to kick a ball between us for hours on end.

Until I heard him take a deep breath, and ask the dreaded question.

"Where've you been John, I've had no way of contacting you for weeks, mate. I know things ain't easy on your end of the line, but man, I can't go this long without seeing my best mate. I mean, it's summer, aren't we supposed to be going to parties, getting girls and getting pissed? We're sixteen for fucks sake, and all you're doing is sitting round, and all I'm doing is waiting for you to message and tell me that your free to not sit around for a day so we can come to the park and do the same old thing every time. Don't you just want to go out for once?"

I stood still. For a second, I wanted to say yes and say that I would stay over at his tonight and we'd go out on the piss and bring a few girls from school back and see where it went, and then I remembered what would be waiting for me when I got home, and how it would be so much worse than usual, for me and mum, and I couldn't do that to her; that was the least I could do to help the poor woman.

And then I felt slightly angry at Greg for asking me.

"Why are you saying this Greg, when you know that it's impossible and the only thing you're going to do is tempt me into doing something I'll regret. You know very well that I can't do that, imagine what would happen when I got-"I stopped myself. Greg may know that things aren't easy, but he couldn't know the circumstances. I couldn't tell anyone, and I very well knew that.

"What _would _happen, John? You know, for someone who claims to be my friend, you're extremely secretive" Greg fired his words at me, wounding. The words shouldn't harm, but they harmed me.

"Aren't I allowed to have secrets? I don't have to tell you everything you know, and there's hell of a lot of stuff that I've told you that I wouldn't even dream of telling anyone else! So you can shut it about me 'claiming to be your friend', because for once, I thought I'd found a decent one. So are you going to reassure my previous hope, or prove it to be naive, Greg?"

I walked away from him then. I know I shouldn't have. He was the only real friend I had, and if I wanted it to stay that way, I should've turned around and apologized, but know, stupid, ignorant me took my shitty football and stormed out of the bloody park like a complete knob on legs.

I didn't really know where to go, or what to do. I made a quick stop at home to put my football away and grab my iPod before I was roaming the streets with no sense of purpose to be anywhere.

I guess I just wanted to be alone. Another irony. I'd wanted to be with a friend all summer, and when I'd finally got the opportunity, I just wanted to be alone.

I started the madness album on my iPod and wandered slowly round the corners of the streets of London. Checking my watch, I saw it was lunch time, so I searched for a street sign, to see where I'd got to.

_Baker Street. _

In all the time I'd lived there, I'd never really noticed how posh Baker Street actually was; compared to my street anyway. The doorways had proper stone porches above the doors and each building had three stories, with a rooftop garden atop each residence. The windows were actually clean unlike most houses in our street and expensive cars were parked outside the houses with their own parking spaces; no parking on the double yellow lines the my dad used to. Looking back now, I think I was mesmerized. "By the houses?" I hear you mock, no not by the houses dumbass, by the young man that was opening the door and exiting the house three doors down from where I stood.

The door to 221B Baker Street.

* * *

Only a glimpse is what I had, but even a glimpse can feed the imagination. The tall, lean figure, dark hair and shining eyes were a permanent image embedded in my eyelids. Every time I so much as closed my eyes I was met with those burning orbs of blue and green as they turned to catch me staring at him.

He had narrowed his eyes and smirked slightly, before tying his scarf, turning up his coat collar and striding towards a car that was waiting for him on the street. I blinked myself back to reality, and after at least five minutes of being glued to the pavement by my boots, I carried on walking, in search of some form of food, muttering "man I'm so gay" to myself over and over, smiling all the while.

_He must have a girlfriend or some form of relationship_, I thought to myself, honestly not knowing what I was thinking of going after someone in that boy's league. _I bet she's tall and blonde and beautiful and holds his hand and kisses those amazing cheekbones. I bet she can do it in public without people glaring and judging them,_ my mood has suddenly changed from dizzy attraction to slight anger. I was getting angrier by the day back then. Who could blame me, really?

It is an understatement to say that I didn't get any sleep that night. For once the house was peaceful; I guess a day actually working had tired the bastard out; but it was something else that was keeping me awake.

The mysterious boy from Baker Street; even then I had a feeling I'd be seeing more of him.

* * *

**A/N: So, hello humans, and cats (I know how smart cats can be) this is my first story on this account. I hope you enjoyed it; I enjoyed writing it a lot. Please take time out of your oh so busy lives to review (that wasn't sarcastic). **

**Thanks for reading guys. Should be updated soon. At the latest this time next week.**

**Holly x**


	2. Chapter 2

_You have one new message._

_Well that's weird, _I'd thought to myself, _I thought it was only Greg who had my number. _Thoughts aside, I clicked on the little envelope symbol on my phone; a hand-me-down I might add; and read it.

_Hey John, its Molly here, Molly Hooper. I was just thinking yesterday that I hadn't actually left the house yet this summer and I was just wondering (it's okay if you don't want to of course) maybe you'd like to meet up somewhere? It's completely okay if you don't want to, I don't even know why I'm suggesting it really, and I'm just being silly. Molly. _

It had been a surprise to receive that message, as I'd not really been that close to Molly. But then I suppose Molly Hooper had never really been close to anyone. She was a shy, small girl with long brown hair that reached her waist and bright brown eyes. She was pretty enough, it was her social skills that let her down, bless her. She didn't speak unless spoken to by a teacher or another student during lessons; she was one of the few that actually worked during hours of endless boredom; and in all my time there I had never seen her sit with anyone at lunch time or go to anyone's house after school.

I had sat next to her in English and Biology; our classes had never changed, so the seating plan was the same every year; and I think I must have been the only one who had even tried to make some form of contact with her, even if it was only during lessons. My friends had teased me about it for a while;"Why are you even trying to talk to her" and "She's a freak John, leave her be" were just some of the comments I received from my 'mates'; but I wasn't just going to let her be more lonely. After all, if I said I didn't want to talk to her or I had ignored her, the lessons would have been unbearable by the deafening awkward silence between us. And I could see it would have really hurt her too.

I was more than happy to meet up with her, after Greg had let me down; I still felt like a bit of a knob about that, but I was a teenager and I was allowed to be stubborn; I had no one to talk to. Sarah; another girl from school, didn't like her too much, always clinging round me and trying to get in my pants; Anderson-don't know his first name, known by his last- and Sally Donavon-bitch- had all gone on holiday to exotic places round the world, leaving just me and Greg; and now it seemed Molly; to the lovely holiday season consisting of-in my case- waiting for dad to leave the house so I might actually be able to go out and at least once socialize with someone.

I pressed the reply button, opening up a new message , and typed:

_Hey Molly. Yeah, I'd really like that, when did you have in mind._

I stopped myself as I realized: what about dad?

I couldn't leave the house when he was around, so I'd have to wait for a day when he was next at work. I closed down the message and sent a quick one to mum; our only means of communication; asking her when dad was next off work. The reply came seconds later.

_He doesn't go back into work now until September, sorry love.x_

"Shit-balls…fuck it" I said, and re-opened the message I was writing to Molly.

_Hey Molly. Yeah I'd really like that, when did you have in mind? I'm free now until September, so whenever you're free is fine. Text me when and where you would like. John :)_

* * *

To be perfectly honest with you, I was shitting my pants. I'd never done this before, I'd never gone against him, and I didn't know where it might lead. I zipped up my bomber jacket; taking a deep breath.

Me and mum had it all worked out. She was going to ask dad to come into the back garden to help her for a minute after leaving the house keys outside my bedroom door, allowing me time to peg it down the stairs, unlock the front door, lock it again when I was outside and run down the street and out of sight before he could notice anything had happened. Now I just had to wait for the signal.

I heard her outside my door, placing the keys there, before turning and walking back down the stairs.

Then came the question.

"James, would you mind helping me in the garden for a minute please?" I heard my mum's quite voice from the bottom of the stairs.

And then came the reply.

"Bloody hell Catherine! Do I have to help you do everything!"his speech was slurred; shit, he'd already been drinking. I glanced at my watch: 10 o'clock in the morning.

Never the less, I heard him get up and move towards the back door. _I should really go now_, I thought to myself, but my muscles had paralyzed, gluing me to the spot. Forcing my shaking feet to move, I opened the door and grabbed the keys, trying not to jingle them as I held them in my hand.

_3…2…_

"Stupid woman. You really are pathetic!"

His words made me see red as I bolted forward, not caring if he heard me or not anymore. I took the stairs two at a time in my race to escape. Holding the key out ready, I shoved it in the keyhole and-to my relief-unlocked the door.

I swung open it open and closed it as quietly as possible, hearing his shouts from the opposite side. I can't think even now of a day where I ran as fast as I ran away from that house, and I didn't stop until I felt my pulse in my throat and an ache in my legs.

Completely disorientated, I put my arm out to lean on the nearest building, trying to catch my breath. As I did, I glanced up to see if there was a street name I'd recognized, and just like a few weeks earlier, I found myself on the corner of Baker Street.

Only it wasn't quiet, as it had been then.

Police cars and ambulances crowded the streets and paparazzi swarmed the door to a house.

The house three doors down from where I stood; the house which the boy who had been on my mind ever since that day had walked out of.

Needless to say, the first thing that came to mind was naturally: shit.

I remember a strange sense of protection come over me as I looked at the building, questions and thoughts filling my head. "What if something's happened to him?" I had no reason to feel this way though, I'd never actually met the guy, and it was obvious that the building was a block of flats; very nice flats at that; so it could easily have been some other tenant.

Telling myself that it wasn't any of my business anyway, I carried on walking to meet Molly in Hyde Park.

Glancing down at my watch I saw that the time was quarter past ten-we were meeting at half past-and quickened my pace, not wanting to worry the poor girl by thinking I wasn't going to turn up.

I reached the gates dead on half ten-after nearly been knocked of my feet by two cars, three motorbikes and four people on foot; just as my phone buzzed in the pocket of my jacket. I retrieved it and opened the message.

_Hey John, I'm at the Serpentine Restaurant Place (hope you know where that is).See you soon. Molly. _

Shoving my phone back in to my pocket, I began walking to where our meeting place, hoping we were planning on getting food there as I heard my stomach growl.

As I approached the restaurant, I saw Molly. I smiled as she waved me over to where she was sat on a nearby wall.

I have to say she looked extremely nice that day. Her hair had been braided around the back of her head and a side pony-tail fell down her right side. She wore a sweater that hung off one shoulder and black jeans with sandals, and I tell you, if I wasn't gay I think I would have fallen for her.

"Oh..hey John" I heard her say quietly, pulling me out of my thoughts. _Shit, I hope I wasn't staring; I wouldn't want her getting the wrong idea._

"Hello Molly, you're looking very nice today" I replied kindly, and watched as the blood rushed to her cheeks and a smile appeared on her face.

"Oh, right…thanks. I haven't been out of the house in a while, s-so I thought I-I'd make an effort…you know?"

Knowing what she meant about not leaving the house for a while, I nodded understandingly. Then, looking down to my pretty plain outfit, I shrugged, an apologetic smile rearing its ugly head on my face.

"No, no, you look nice too" she said, blushing even more and looking down. The whole situation had become rather awkward.

"So…do you want to get something to eat?" I said, attempting to fill the lull in the conversation. She looked up at me and nodded happily, seemingly glad that I had made the effort to ask _her _for a change.

We talked some more about general stuff as we moved towards the Serpentine Restaurant to get some food.

"Bloody hell, look at the prices!" I exclaimed on approaching the counter. I glanced sideways, thankfully to see the same expression on her face and the same words at her lips.

"I'm not paying 7 quid for a ham sandwich! I'm not stingy but that's just outrageous!" she said under her breath in my ear, so the posh looking man serving wouldn't hear.

"Fish and chips?"

"Fish and chips"

* * *

We ended up taking the long walk to the chippy and sitting on a park bench eating fish and chips with curry sauce out of the paper. It was a treat for me as I hadn't tasted fish and chips in what felt like years, but I was a bit worried about whether Molly was actually happy being a bit of a slob for the afternoon.

However I had no need to worry and they all dissolved when she turned towards me.

"John" she said, smiling "today has been nothing that I could have anticipated"

My expression dropped and my worries returned. She must have noticed.

"No, not in a bad way; oh god no!" she reassured me "It's just been unexpected. I was laid in bed last night, thinking up every possible scenario, but this one never crossed my mind. I've just had so much fun. John you're so…laid back, it's just easy"

Confused, I questioned her.

"What's easy?"

"Talking. Any other time, talking is so hard, even to my parents. But look at me today, I've been talking for hours. You probably don't feel it necessary, but, thanks" she smiled.

"For what?"

"Helping me talk" she said sadly "It's never been easy, nor my strong point"

"Well I thought you did pretty well today, Molls" I said happily, winking. She laughed and nudged me in the side, polishing off the last of her chips before wrapping up the rubbish, grabbing mine, and chucking them in to the nearest bin. She glanced at her watch and sighed.

"I guess I should start getting home, mum's expecting me home by 5:30" she said, almost sadly. I smiled.

"Yeah, me too, where do you live, I could always walk you home?" I offered kindly, just hoping to talk to her a bit more.

"Thanks for the offer John but it's a bit out of your way really, I have to get the tube you see, and you just live up the road. It would be pointless" she said with a smile and a shrug.

I don't think either of us knew what to do right then. I wanted to hug her really, I just didn't know how. I hadn't hugged many people in my life up to then and I wasn't sure if it was appropriate. Before I could process this information however, her arms were already round my neck and her head on my shoulder, and before I knew it, I was hugging her back.

It wasn't hard after all.

"Make sure you keep in touch Molls, I'll see you soon yeah?" I said as she pulled back. She nodded as she turned away.

"See you John. Take care"

* * *

The walk home was fairly lonely after spending the day with Molly. Looking back thinking what we did, it wasn't a great deal. We just talked and walked and ate in between, but honestly it was the best day I'd had in years.

Passing that now almost familiar corner, I heard an unfamiliar sound.

It was the sound of someone crying.

I turned slowly round to see if I could where the noise was coming from. And then I saw him.

Curled up so tightly in a ball he was almost unrecognizable as a human being. The only way I recognized him was by the mop of curly, black, unruly hair that sat on his head that was buried in his knees, his arms forming a barrier around his legs.

Needles to say, I knew immediately who this boy was.

I felt my legs carrying me unintentionally towards the sobs coming from the ball of limbs perched on the steps of 221B Baker Street.

Carefully, I placed a hand on his back.

The mop of curls went flying backwards as I withdrew my hand, to reveal a red and white blotchy face with tear tracks clearly down each cheek.

We maintained eye contact for at least 30 seconds before I stammered over my words.

"I-I-I heard y-you crying a-and…I just wondered what was wrong" I said awkwardly, finding myself in a situation I'd dreamed of for weeks, but not knowing what to do with myself.

"There's nothing wrong. Nothing at all" he replied coldly, looking straight ahead of him.

"R-r-right, okay…bye then" I said, slightly offended by his reaction, and began to walk in the opposite direction, making my way home.

"Wait" I stopped immediately, turning my body round to face the boy again, slightly confused "Come back, please"

I began to walk back to him slowly, almost cautiously. As I reached him, I sat down on the step beside him, rubbing my knees and looking at the house across the street.

"I'm sorry" he said, there was a pause before he turned towards me and held out his hand.

"My name's Sherlock Holmes" he said shyly. I smiled and replied.

"John Watson, nice to meet you"

* * *

**A/N: Hey the chaps. Spiffing day isn't it. I hope you like this update, sorry if it's slightly late(English time) and the next update will be this time next week. Don't forget to drop a review my lovelies.**

**-Holly x**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Okay, I don't normally do authors notes at the start, but before you begin reading, I would just like to say a huge thank you to all of you for reading, reviewing, following and favouriting this story. It means so much to me, so thanks chums. Okay, you can read now. :)**

* * *

For a moment I was paralyzed. Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock Holmes. The name kept repeating its self over and over inside my head, deafening me from my surroundings.

I sat glued to the spot. It was a while before either of us moved or spoke, except for me to clear my throat and for him to sniffle; obviously trying to hide the fact that he had been crying.

"So" I began "Sherlock Holmes. I'm sure I know that name" I said so quietly I'm surprised he heard anything at all. He must have done however because he turned to me, slightly scowling.

"Do you go to St. Bartholomew's by any chance?" he asked, his annoyed tone of voice ringing in my ears.

"Yeah I do, how did you know that?" I questioned, fairly shocked.

"It's obvious. I know they talk about me in the hallways, it's no secret… what was your name, John?" he spat spitefully, looking at me from the corner of his eyes.

"Well…yeah they do" I admitted, regretting it as soon as I did. I was expecting Sherlock to accuse me of being one of them and walk back inside the house, slamming the door as he did and refuse to ever make contact with me again. That wasn't what he did though.

I saw his shoulders relax, slumping down even further and his expression fell from angry to upset, his eyes looking towards the floor and sighing heavily.

"I don't know why I'm reacting like this. It isn't as if I believed they wouldn't talk" he said forlornly, running his long slender fingers through his curly, black hair.

"I'm sorry" I said, as it was the only thing I could think of to say.

"I don't know why you're saying sorry; it's not your fault"

I nodded, as I had never taken part in the teasing or gossiping that went on about the boy with the name of Sherlock Holmes.

Just then I heard the door open behind me and someone step out. I turned around to see who was there but Sherlock didn't.

The lady that appeared at the doorway was a young woman, in her late twenties I would have said. She was skinny as a rake with small, threatening eyes that held far too much make up and short blonde hair that hung at her shoulders. Her high heels made her seem tall, but I imagine without them on she would have been average height.

She made her way down the steps, her heels clanking on the marble and as she got to the bottom, she stopped, as we were blocking the way.

"Sherlock, would you and your friend be so kind as to let me through" her icy voice was laced with the cockney accent, accompanied by a hint of sarcasm. I heard Sherlock sigh heavily from beside me before standing up and moving a few inches to the side. I did the same.

"Oh thank you dear, good night" she spat as she swaggered off down the street, hauling a cab as she did.

When she was out of sight, Sherlock sat back down on the steps. I followed seconds later.

"Was that your sister?" I asked. I heard an explosion of laughter from beside me, making me feel slightly embarrassed .

"Her? Dear god no. That's the stand in for Mrs. Hudson while she's on holiday" his voice was dark as he talked about her.

"Who's Mrs. Hudson?"

"Mrs. Hudson is the housekeeper" he said softly.

"She nice?"

"She's the only person other than my parents who has ever been kind to me" he paused, then added "I suppose, other than you too now"

I saw him look at me. As I turned to look at him however, he whipped his head back to face the opposite side of the street, his eyes returning to their former state of emptiness.

"Where's she gone on holiday then?"

"Why does that matter?"

"Just curious" I replied.

"I think she's gone to visit her sister, although she didn't really say much, which I immediately thought was strange; she likes to give you all the details about everything she does, so for her to not go into detail about this too was extremely odd and was not overlooked. Not by me anyway. And then there was the way she was acting just before she left; quiet, unsure, unsafe, anxious are just some of the feelings I got from her. It seemed as though she was hiding something. It was obvious she didn't like the girl who would be replacing her either; she called her a slut when she thought no one was listening on several occasions. I also heard her talking to her about taking proper care of the flat, as if she didn't trust her. I know for a fact that there is something that Mrs. Hudson isn't telling us" he took a much needed breath and wrung his hands together on his lap.

"What do you mean, something going on?"

"I don't think my mother's death was an accident" he whispered, tears filling his eyes as the world seemed to freeze.

"Your mother. I'm so sorry" I tried to place a hand on his shoulder, but her flinched away from me, so I returned my hand to my knee.

"Don't apologize, I don't need your pity" I nodded.

"What was her name?" I questioned, unsure. He looked at me for a few seconds before resting his chin on his hand.

"Her name was Evelyn Susanna Florence Holmes" he replied, proudly. I smiled.

"What a lovely name"

"She deserved it then. I do believe she was the nicest woman I have ever come across, and I am proud to call her my mother" I saw tears in the corner of his eyes, and strangely felt them in the corners of mine too.

A fat tear slipped free, cascading down his cheek and my body took control of itself. My arm lifted up and wrapped around the boy's now shaking shoulders.

To my complete surprise, he leaned into my side as he continued to cry. I may have joined him at some point, I can't remember.

It seemed that we stayed like that for hours but it must have only been ten minutes. He sniffed for the final time before sitting back up and wiping his eyes.

Suddenly, his back straightened and he stood up abruptly, looking down at me with narrow eyes.

"Why am I even talking to you, I barely know you…well apart from what you've mentioned and what I've deduced" he said in a rush.

I stammered slightly at the sudden outburst before replying.

"I'm not sure really. You just looked like you needed a bit of comfort so I- wait, what do you mean deduced?" I questioned, slightly confused and worried about what he might say next.

"It's just something I do; I can read your body like a book. For instance your name is John Watson, you live no more than two or three streets away; you wouldn't have stayed here for this amount of time if you still had a long journey to take to get home. Now that I've mentioned 'home' you have started fiddling with your hands which makes me think that you are not happy at home, maybe your parents are close to divorce or arguing all the time, or maybe you have an abusive parent. By the look on your face I'm assuming it's the latter. You are the same age as me; sixteen; and you go to St. Bartholomew's high school. I can also tell that you had fish and chips for lunch and you have been out with a girl today, possibly a girlfriend" he stopped. I sat, amazed.

"That…was…amazing" I stuttered, gob smacked, and unable to say anything else.

As I was looking into his eyes, I saw them change. I saw something appear in them. I think I saw hope.

"Really?"

"Of course it was…has no one ever told you that before?" I said, amazed by this boys' ability.

"Well my mother did, but it is a gift shared by me my brother and my father, so it's not really anything special where I come from" he replied, looking down to the floor.

"Well from where I come from, that was incredible" I smiled, and as he lifted his head up, his eyes met mine. They were smiling too.

"Thanks, I suppose" he said, sitting back down beside me. I saw him smile as he fiddled with his hands.

Then I heard my phone vibrate in my pocket. _Shit. _

Already beginning to panic, I looked down to my watch. 7:30 pm. Dad would have been expecting me home by then so that he could continue shouting abuse at me. If I didn't respond he would come in to my room and find I wasn't there. I dreaded to think what he would do to mum. I quickly tried to think of something to say to Sherlock, for I wanted to stay and talk to him some more, get t know him a bit better.

"Sherlock, I'm so sorry, but I have to start heading home now" I said sadly. He turned to look at me with a slight smile on his face. He nodded and then replied.

"I was just about to say when do you need to be home by" he stood up. I did the same and we stood face to face. He held out his hand for me to shake.

"Thank you John"

"For what?'

"Just...thank you" he repeated, smiling and throwing me one of his winks. I shook his hand and he began to make his way up the steps. He opened the front door and without so much as a wave or a smile, he slipped inside and closed the door behind him.

I smiled to myself as I watched him and reluctantly began to make the trek back home not wanting to leave Sherlock or Baker Street.

As I was turning the corner, I pulled my phone out from my pocket, remembering that it had gone off. There were two new messages. I opened the first, and to my surprise, it was Molly.

_Hey John, It's Molly here, I just wanted to thank you for such a lovely day with you. I really enjoyed myself, maybe we could do it again pretty soon? Only if you want to of course. Anyway, text me if you want to. Molly:)_

I decided that I would reply later and proceeded to open the second message.

_John, where are you? I'm starting to get worried and your dad has begun to wonder where you are. You need t get back as soon as you can John. Please. Mum. _

I quickened my pace as I read this message, until I was almost running. My mind was filled with thoughts. _How could I have been so stupid, leaving her alone with him like that, I know what he's like. Poor mum, I hope she's okay. Bloody hell John you knob. _

As I reached the front door, I could already hear it. The shouting.

_Maybe if I go in quietly, he won't notice. He's probably wasted anyway. _

Slowly, I lifted the set of keys up to the door lock, trying to make as little noise as possible. I turned the key and there was a click, signifying that the door had unlocked. Now came the hard bit.

I opened the door quietly enough, but made the stupid mistake of letting it go. A gust of wind leapt through the house, took the door with and slammed it shut behind me.

For a moment, everything was quiet. The shouting that had been coming from the lounge had stopped. I stood paralyzed, and the world seemed to freeze around me as I stood in the doorway.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading guise, bit if a cliffhanger for you there. It'll be updated at the normal time next week, sorry for the gap. Please review as it encourages me to keep going and helpful criticism helps me improve. Thanks again lovelies, see you next week. **

**-Holly x**


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